


Iron Curtain

by sailorgreywolf



Series: The Soviet Files [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 23:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7660915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorgreywolf/pseuds/sailorgreywolf





	Iron Curtain

Prussia sighed contentedly and snuggled closer. Russia's chest was warm and rising and falling as he slept. The albino laid his head flat against the other's chest and closed his eyes. He could hear the heart beating steadily with an indomitable strength. All those Western countries who said Russia had no heart did not know how serene and beautiful this sound could be. Prussia felt his own heart fall in line with the Russian's strong steady beats. Every so often, the Russian would let out a slight snore that sounded like the purring of a large cat. It was a charming sound that the albino could feel reverberate through his chest.

It was comfortable, warm, and impossibly serene. If Prussia could freeze this moment, he would. He felt completely safe, completely secure. But, inevitably the moment would change and both of them would have to face the judgmental stares again. The Baltics would judge them, his sisters would judge them, the West would judge them more harshly than anyone else. But, for this moment none of that mattered.

A hand softly touched the back of the albino's head, stroking his hair. Sleepily, Russia said, "Look at the little rabbit I've caught."  
Prussia responded with a playful smile, "I've heard that rabbits make good pets. They're very loyal." Russia's fingers were running softly through his hair, his fingertips brushing against his scalp. Prussia let out a soft sound of contentment and nuzzled against the hand.  
Russia spoke, his voice still heavy with sleep, "I don't have any complaints about mine." He leaned down and kissed the top of the albino's head and added, "He's so beautiful and so loyal." Prussia felt a slight warmth mount his cheeks at the compliment, even though he had heard the words before.

The Russian moved his hand slowly down the side of his lover's face. His touch was soft, like he was holding onto something fragile and precious. He spoke again his lips still pressed lightly against the albino's hair, "I want to see all of you." Prussia knew exactly what the other was talking about. Soft sheets and blankets were covering him to the mid-back, covering up most of his body. But, he was warm enough from Russia's body heat to not object to the blankets being pulled away.  
He was more than willing to let his lover look him over. He responded, "Ask me nicely, Vanya, and I'll let you see whatever you want."

It was a playful comment, but he meant it as an affirmation that Russia could push back the blankets. Russia smiled and responded, "I want to see that lovely white skin of yours." He pulled back the sheets, laying Prussia completely bare before his eyes. A sweet, childish smile appeared on his face.  
The albino couldn't stop himself from responding to it with wit, "You look pleased. Am I that perfect?" Russia gave him a look that clearly said he would not respond to that with a compliment. Instead he took two fingers and walked them like a pair of tiny legs up Prussia's back.  
He explained his actions with a sweet whisper, "You have this trail up your back."

Prussia immediately replied, "It's your fault." He meant that Russia had left all of the bite marks on him the night before. His meaning wasn't lost.  
Russia smirked and said, "Oh I am aware of that. If I didn't leave marks, how would I know you are mind. That's why they make me so happy."

He moved his hand further up the albino's back and paused at his shoulder. His smile widened further. Prussia didn't have to ask why, because Russia said, "This one is my favorite. It's shaped like Belarus."  
Prussia smirked and replied, "She won't be very happy about that." It was easy to be mocking about Russia's sister when she wasn't there. It would not be as easy with her there, glaring at them both jealously.

Russia ran his finger around the edge of the love bite he had been talking about. He ignored what the albino had said, "See, it is exactly her borders. Minsk is right here." He put his finger in the middle of the bite mark with an amused smile.  
Prussia responded again, "Why couldn't you give me a hickey shaped like your sane sister?"  
Russia replied with the same amused smile, "I don't think I have one of those."

Prussia shifted his position against his lover so that his chest was pressed flat against Russia's. He then said, "They're still better than those wimps you keep around. At least Natalia would stab me in the front."

The other sighed and a look of melancholy passed over his face. The emotion darkened his voice, "You're probably right." He paused for a moment and then smiled again, "How about you and I just stay here? We don't have to go out and see any of them." Russia's hand found Prussia's hip and tightened on the flesh. There was something profoundly comforting about the contact and the albino didn't mind the bruises the fingers might leave.  
He replied, "I would gladly agree to that."

He then leaned forward and kissed the middle of Russia's chest. The Russian's eyes were glowing as he looked down at his lover. He didn't need to say anything, when Prussia's red eyes met his own, they both smiled softly. Russia said, "Why do I need the entire Soviet Union when I have you?"

Prussia opened his mouth to respond, but a sharp knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He knew what the sound was, but he begrudged it anyway. He wanted to stay here wrapped up in Russia's big arms. This was comfortable and Ivan was looking at him with such adoration. As soon as that door opened, all the politics and the judgment would return. He knew that this had to be Russia's order, so he looked at his lover questioningly.

The Russian sighed and said, "It appears that Toris is here. We do actually have to go to the UN meeting." Prussia echoed the sigh and slowly started to sit up. As he did so, Lithuania pushed open the door. The knock had been little more than a perfunctory warning. He already knew what state he was going to find both of them in. But, entering without the knock would surely warrant punishment. Lithuania's green eyes quickly surveyed the pair before returning to the ground. Prussia felt himself smirk at the sight of the Baltic country being so deferent. He was aware of the fact that if he was alone, Lithuania would meet his eyes. But, with Russia here the man would not dare. It was intoxicating to have that kind of submission. Prussia was tempted to walk over and test how firm Lithuania's control really was.

Russia glanced over at him and seem to understand the smirk. He leaned over and said softly in the albino's ear, "You can torment him later." The albino rolled his eyes, but he meant it as a sarcastic gesture.  
He added, "You have all the fun."  
The Russian responded in the same soft tone, quietly enough that it was hard to say if Lithuania could hear it, "You seemed pretty pleased last night." The comment was so typical that the albino had to scoff.

He then looked at Lithuania again, finally turning his attention to what the Baltic man was holding. It appeared to be a garment bag. He should have expected as much; he knew he needed a suit for the meeting. But, he had brought one with him. Russia released his hold on the albino and got out of bed. Prussia couldn't help but feel a slight sinking feeling as warm presence left his side. But, it was amusing to watch the way Russia grabbed a pair of pants and pulled them on before walking over to Lithuania and taking the garment bag from him. He then gestured to Prussia, "Come here, Gil. I want to show you this."

The albino's heart leaped slightly at the childish, expectant smile on the other's face. He would hate to disappoint that smile. He got out of bed, not bothering to grab anything to cover himself. Russia would enjoy the view and Lithuania wouldn't dare look. He walked over to where his lover was standing. Once Prussia reached him, Russia unzipped the bag, revealing a gray military uniform. Prussia felt a wide smile spread across his face. His militaristic heart started pounding in his chest. He could only say, "Is this for me?"

He didn't really need to ask though, it was clear that the uniform was in his size. Russia replied, obviously happy with the reaction, "I wasn't going to debut you to the world in civilian clothing. That isn't who you are. Put it on. I want to see how you look." Prussia reached out and touched the fabric, not yet taking hold of it. The uniform was stiff, just as it should be. The gesture was touching beyond words. It showed how well Russia's understood his lover's affinity for the military.  
Prussia said softly, "Thank you, Vanya."

Another flash of joy lit up Russia's face, but he didn't reply. He had already given his order and was waiting for it to be followed. The albino did not keep Russia waiting. He took the pants from where they were neatly folded over a hanger. After centuries of being ready for battle on a moments notice, it was easy to pull on pants and a shirt. As he adjusted his tie, Prussia looked back at Russia. He expected to see the other getting ready as well, but he was surprised to see that the Russian was standing, his hand casually on his hip, watching the albino dress. Prussia spoke as he finished straightening his tie, "Are you enjoying this? The opposite would be much sexier."

Russia's eyes raked over the albino's neatly dressed form. There was a hunger in his eyes that Prussia was learning to recognize. It was not lust yet, but it was the low smoldering flame that always preceded it. Russia's voice sounded a little rougher as he said, "I like watching you move." Prussia could feel the violet eyes burning into him, setting his skin on fire. He hadn't been thinking about the subtle movements he was making, or how appealing Russia could find them. He reached out and took the jacket of the uniform off of the hanger. He pulled it on and started to button it when Russia said, "Stop."

The albino's hands froze and he looked up. Russia had put down the bag and was holding a belt. He walked closer to the albino and said, "Let me do this part."  
Prussia smirked, "Do what you want." The Russian took another step forward and put one hand on the other's face.  
Then, he spoke again, his voice a deep purr now, "Let's do this in front of the mirror. I want you to see how perfect you look."

Prussia had to bite his tongue to stop himself from quipping about what else they could do in front of the mirror. He simply nodded and followed the order without a word. There was a full length mirror on one wall and Prussia walked towards it. He could see that Russia was following closely. He stopped when he could see himself clearly in the mirror. The grey fabric fit him perfectly, clinging to all his curves. It was a little loose around the waist, but the belt would soon remedy that. He looked like a soldier again, and the thought made him smirk. This was what he was meant to be, what he had always been. Even with the new communist identity, the core of his being was the same. His blood was iron, and it was pumping through him with renewed vigor.

Russia reached around his lover's waist and slipped the end of the belt into the buckle, pulling the albino against himself as he did so. The albino could feel the heat of the Russian's back pressed against him. The fabric was pulled in loosely around Prussia's waist, hinting at the shape of the body beneath it. Prussia felt one of his lover's hands on his waist, while the other slowly pulled the belt tighter. He slowly pulled in a breath as the belt constricted around him. He reached up and put his hand on the side of Russia's face. The Russian recognized the gesture and said, "Is that tight enough?"

Prussia smirked again, and he could see his own smirk reflected in the mirror. But, his eyes were drawn to the look of patient amusement on Russia's face. There was something exceptionally charming about it. Prussia responded, "That depends. If you want me to look presentable for the meeting, then yes. But, if you want to fuck me again, you know I can take more."

He saw a sadistic smile pass over Russia's face. The Russian laid a light kiss on the shell of the albino's ear, "That does sound tempting. But, unfortunately, we need to show our strength so Alfred knows he can't impose himself on the world." He buckled the belt and then let his hands linger on Prussia's waist, as though really regretting the proposition. He then took out the final piece of the uniform. He attached the silver aiguillette to the epaulette at the albino's shoulder and then moved his hand assertively across his chest. He hitched the other end to the button of the albino's jacket. Then, with a soft mischievous smile, Russia slipped his hand through the gap between the buttons and brushed his hand against the shirt underneath, teasing the nipple beneath the fabric. His hands knew what they were doing, and they were more than familiar with the sensitive spots on the albino's body.

Prussia saw his own face contort into a soundless moan. His body reacted to the touch, pressing itself against the other. Russia breathed in his ear, "You are so sexy in uniform." The albino looked at himself in the mirror through half-lidded eyes. His cheeks were flushed the dark, staining red that only his skin could turn. But, the uniform did look good on him. It bore a striking resemblance to the uniform he had worn under the Third Reich, but if that was what Russia preferred him in, then he would gladly wear it. Russia slowly pulled his hand out of the other's shirt, but didn't release him.

He continued to speak, "It suits you, don't you think?"  
The albino responded, "It looks familiar." Russia had a slight smile on his face as he placed one hand on the albino's hands and moved it to the buckle of the belt. He didn't explain his actions until Prussia's hand was firmly on the buckle.  
Only then did he say, "But, see how it has changed. Now you are mine. What symbols do you feel here?'

Prussia closed his eyes and felt the symbols on the belt buckle like it was brail. He voiced each as he recognized it, not yet speaking the importance, "Wheat, a hammer, and a compass." He slowly opened his eyes and turned to Russia.  
The violet eyes met his own and his voice melted as he said, "All very communist." There was no real surprise in the realization. But this was a physical manifestation of the relationship between them, and there was a feeling of deep belonging that came with it. Having the other's hands of his waist felt all the more right. The rest of the world could think whatever they wanted; Prussia loved this feeling of being owned. He would proudly wear the symbols of communism to show them all.  
Russia responded as though this was exactly what he wanted to hear, "Yes, now you look like my little soldier."

His voice was thick with possessive tension. He slid one hand down the albino's midriff, letting his fingers linger on each button. Prussia felt hypersensitive to every motion the other made. He was aware of the fact that Russia was still wearing practically nothing. Russia continued to breathe in his ear, "I've always wanted a little toy soldier of my own." Prussia felt another flash of heat against his skin. Russia's eyes were ravishing him through his clothing.

Russia paused as he looked at his lover and a realization hit him. He turned to the Baltic state who had not dared to leave the room and said, "Toris, bring the hat." The Baltic nation flinched at the sound of his own name. He had apparently hoped he had been forgotten. He took a hat box from the pile of things he had brought with him. He walked hesitantly towards the pair, his footsteps slow and unsure. The albino felt a smirk curl across his face as he watched the fear in the Baltic nations approached them. This was good; this was perfect. The Baltic man shuffled closer and extended the box the Russia, who took it almost tenderly. He opened it and took the officer's cap from it. The albino's heart skipped a beat as he recognized it. Russia took the hat and with one hand and used the other under the albino chin. Prussia didn't offer any resistance, he looked directly at the Russian and let himself be drawn into the other's violet eyes. Russia placed the hat softly on the other's head, then smiled. He brushed his hand against the albino's cheek. There was a purr in his throat as he said, "Now you look perfect."

There was a cunning light behind the violet eyes as Russia added, "I can't wait for Alfred to see you." Prussia was about to respond when Russia's face fell. It was a subtle expression, but he had gotten used to seeing it. Until now, the conversation had been playful and flirtatious.  
Prussia wasn't going to let this go unaddressed. He said, "Vanya, what is wrong?"  
Russia sighed, "This is more important than I told you." He took a breath while nervously fidgeting with Prussia's belt with the hand that had just been confidently roaming his body. Prussia could feel the change in his demeanor, and it was more than puzzling. He waited for the clarification that he was certain would come.

After a moment, Russia said, "I know Alfred is bringing your brother." In the mirror, Prussia could see the uncertainty in the way that lines appeared in his lover's forehead. The other continued, "I know what he's doing. Alfred wants to take you away from me and he'll use your brother to do it."

The albino drew in a sharp breath through his nose. He had every reason to hate America, but he had not thought the man would stoop this low. But, it was somehow still shocking to think that the man would use Ludwig's naiveté to fulfill his his own goals was sickening. He was struck again by the strong desire to protect his brother from whoever sought to use him. But, the treaty was signed and nothing could be done to alter it unless one of the superpowers was significantly weakened. He had no doubts which one it would be. But, how much damage was already done was an open question, one Prussia didn't particularly want to know the answer to. His imagination was likely underestimating it. This news did nothing to dissuade him that his brother was becoming a capitalist's tool.

He responded after turning the idea over several times in his mind, "Tell me what to do, Vanya. He is my brother, but I can't stand the thought of Alfred speaking through him. I taught him better than that." If Russia had already thought of a solution, than he had withheld it out of respect. But, Prussia felt completely comfortable allowing his lover to dictate the solution. Before the Russian answered, he pressed his lips to the exposed skin of the albino's neck. It was a gesture of affirmation, not lust.

He said, his usual confidence returning as he spoke, "Don't speak to him and you won't have to hear Alfred's words. Even if he approaches you, and I'm certain he will try, do not engage him. I will handle it if he tries." Prussia nodded, but it was a hard order to follow. He reasoned with himself: what could he say to persuade Ludwig in a few minutes? Would a few words matter? Likely they would not. His presence would be enough to remind Germany that he had family.

He said, elaborating on the nod, "That's probably for the best. I wish I could talk to him and convince him to see how corrupt and imperialist Alfred is." Russia seemed to have already prepared for this reaction.  
He said, his hands finally resting comfortably, "When we prevail, you will be able to reeducate him."  
Prussia could feel the other's breath on his neck as he spoke, "When the time comes, he will listen to you. But, now you shouldn't speak to him. He will lie to you, and I don't want to see you hurt because of him again."

The albino nodded to himself, still thinking through the idea. It would hurt to hear Capitalism on his brother's lips after the damage unfettered, imperialist, fascist capitalism had done. He sighed to himself. Russia was right, and he would willingly accept the limitation. Slowly, he turned so that he was facing the Russian, placing both of his hands firmly on the man's bare chest. The affirmation that was already perfectly clear slipped smoothly from his lips, "I won't speak to him, Vanya. I won't say a word until you tell me I can."  
Russia smiled before saying, "Good boy."  
Without another word, he pressed his lips to the albino's, communicating his approval through intimacy. Prussia could feel in the touch that his choice was entirely correct, the few doubts he had faded into a haze. Speaking as he pulled away, Russia said, "I need to get dressed, then we will give Alfred a show."

Germany had no idea why America had requested to see him right before a United Nations meeting, but he had no objections. The young superpower had done a remarkable job helping to rebuild his sector. Germany owed him at least some attention. The way America had sounded on the phone seemed to indicate that this was very important. So, he found himself opening the door to America's private office in New York.

The blonde, who had become something of a friend in the years since the war, gave Germany a small smile when he saw him enter. But, the look was quickly replaced by one of worry. The American spoke in his usual fast, vague manner, "I have received information that Ivan is coming to this meeting and bringing all of his satellite states with him."

Germany thought about this, but he couldn't figure out why America was telling him. As far as he knew, Russia had always dragged the states he dominated to UN meetings to show his strength, if violence and coercion could be considered strength. It was not so surprising to hear this, but America was saying it as though it was somehow new information. Hoping to get clarification, he replied, "Doesn't he always?"

America looked directly at him, and there was pity in his eyes. It had been so long since anyone had looked at him like that, with sympathy instead of blame. He felt a deep pang of affection for the American. For a moment, he was reminded of the way Prussia used to look at him when he was a boy. That thought was bitter though. He missed having his brother there to comfort him. It had been four years, four very long years, since he had last seen his older brother. For all his pining, there was nothing he could do to reunify the country until the allies were able to agree.

The American appeared to be multitasking as he picked up separate pieces of paper up from the table in front of him. Germany had noted that the man never prepared for meetings until right before. America took a deep breath before saying, "Yes, but now that the German Democratic Republic is officially a country, he has a seat in the United Nations. He will be here today with Ivan."

Germany felt the air go out of his lungs. The idea hadn't even occurred to him because he could not bring himself to think of Prussia as a separate communist country. The official announcement that the GDR was a separate country had wreaked of Soviet control. He believed that Gilbert had little to do with it. Prussia must still long for reunification, even if it wasn't yet possible. But, if he was going to be here today, Germany would have the chance to know for certain. It would be possible, if he could avoid Russia, to talk to his brother.

But, America seemed to anticipate what Germany was thinking, because he said, "I don't know how to prepare you for this. I thought about it all night last night. So, I'll tell you this: If Ivan is letting one of his satellites attend an international meeting, it's because he knows they won't betray him. If your brother is going to be here, then Ivan is certain of his control."

After he finished speaking, America took out a comb and started aggressively trying to enforce order on his usually messy hair. Germany could hear what America was trying to imply and it sent a wave of revulsion through him. But, the revulsion was followed by equally strong anger. America hardly knew Prussia; he didn't understand how strong the albino was. Germany knew that his brother would not break like the Baltic states and be servile to Russia. He knew, as certainly as he knew anything, that Prussia would rather die than submit to the degradation of being a communist. Russia had destroyed their country, and Prussia would never listen to a man like that. But, America had to assume the worst. It would be politically dangerous to assume he could trust an ostensively communist state.

Germany straightened his back, certain in his resolve, "I know that he's still my brother. I will talk to him while he is here. I don't know when I will get another opportunity." He expected a scolding about how he was being naive or disregarding global politics. America loved to explain his complicated plans to bring down communism and how no one else could possibly understand or formulate them.

But, America nodded, "I think you should. I don't know what Ivan has done, but I know you and your brother were close." He took a few steps towards Germany, tucking a file with an agenda under his arm as he did so. Then he said, taking one last look at himself in a mirror, "If you can talk to him, it might remind him that he has someone he can come back to. Tell him that if he wants to come back to you, he should contact me. I know how to be discrete, and I will use any information he gives me to free him."

America turned away from the mirror, so that he was facing Germany again. Germany couldn't hear anything but sincerity in the words. He knew that America wanted to reunite them out of a selfish desire to expand his sphere of influence, but if the result was reunification, he didn't care. He wanted nothing more than to have his brother back; he had buried his own imperialist ambitions.

He assumed from the fact that America had stopped fidgeting that it was time to go. The meeting that Germany had initially been apathetic towards now had a terrible weight. He felt nervous to finally see Prussia. The feeling seemed so foreign. Prussia had been the most stable part of his life as long as he could remember, but now the prospect of seeing the albino was heavy with angst. He tried not to ask himself how different Prussia would be. He spoke, more to himself than to America, "I will get him back. Ivan can't hold onto him forever."  
America nodded to him, "I hope you are right."

The car pulled up to the towering building in New York and Prussia took a deep breath. He didn't like this place; he knew whose land he was on and that same country now held his brother. Russia, who was sitting beside him with his hand resting casually on his knee, heard the reaction and said, "Think of it this way: we will prove how wrong he is on his own soil."

The albino placed his hand on top of Russia's, and he felt Russia shift closer to him. He replied and felt the corners of his lips twitch upward, "He is going to be shocked if he thinks he can expand his empire in Europe."  
Russia nodded as the car stopped. Before opening the door, he turned to the albino and said once more, "I trust you to do what you have to." The albino nodded shortly. He fully believed that there was little he could do if anyone under America's influence approached him. Russia stepped out of the car and extended his hand to Prussia; he gladly took it and stepped out into the sun.

Germany burst out of the room fighting back emotions. It had been a long day. America talked emphatically about his plans for the world and then Russia stood, ice cold and stoic, and voiced concise objections that had the undertone of threats. The battle of words between the superpowers continued in the same way through most of the day: One concise and menacing, the other loud and bombastic. But Germany had hardly listened. He didn't care much about global politics; the war and the aftermath had convinced him that he should focus on his own internal problems first.

His gaze was fixed across the room. He was seated among the countries America considered to be his allies, and the communists were seated on the other side of the chamber. It wasn't difficult for him to find a familiar figure among them, in military dress as he always was. Prussia was seated directly to the right of Russia, who presided over his satellite states like a king surrounded by his courtiers. Germany could only guess that the albino was afforded such a position because Russia needed the proximity to keep an eye on him. The albino looked well enough, as far as Germany could tell. He didn't look like he had been abused or starved, which assuaged some of the German's fears.

But, he could see differences, even if they were subtle. The albino kept his eyes fixed on Russia, like he was measuring the distance between them. His eyes never strayed, never searched out his other half. Germany desperately wished that his brother would look at him for just a moment. He needed to see his eyes, to know that everything was really alright. There was something else he couldn't quite place, something different in his brother's mannerisms and expressions. Whenever Russia finished one of his short objections, Prussia would clap shortly. It was strange, though all the communist states did the same. All the others seemed to be avoiding looking at the albino, or glancing at him with undisguised disdain. Germany couldn't shake the feeling of sickness that settled on him at the sight of his brother surrounded by enemies, expressing solidarity. It was an act, he told himself; it had to be an act. Prussia was protecting himself so that he could have the chance to reunify the nation.

He told himself that when they had a chance to speak later, he would be able to give his brother the hope he needed. He would be able to pull his brother's eyes away from Russia. It was this plan, seeming entirely clear to him, that propelled Germany so quickly out of the door to find his brother. He had noticed, only briefly that America gave him an approving nod as he left. That gesture was all he needed to know that he was allowed to seek out a communist country. It was probably the only time he would grant it.

Germany had a purpose again, like he had not had since the war. There was strength and determination in each step as he weaved between other countries. Mentally, he was focusing on the one hurdle in his way: If he could not separate Prussia from Russia, he would have no opportunity to speak to his brother. There had to be a way to separate them and he was certain he could find it. One or two of the countries he passed looked at him questioningly, but most payed him no mind. Germany didn't care; his mind was fixed.

He felt the difference in the air, like a sudden chill, when he got close enough to Russia. Through the few people that remained between him and the soviet satellite states, Germany caught site of a familiar pale figure. Now, more than before, Germany could see his brother fully. There was something ominous about the uniform he was wearing, something ghostly and familiar. The blonde justified it to himself: Russia had made that decision. He steeled himself and took the next couple feet in a calm stride, surreptitiously looking for Russia as he did so. It seemed so likely that the man would appear like a vigilant guard dog to quash Germany's ambitions. Though the unearthly cold the man always seemed to exude hung in the air, Russia did not appear to be present.

The Baltic states were speaking among themselves, but their postures indicated continued vigilance. Prussia was standing by himself, as though the opportunity had been set up for Germany. His heart jumped into his throat. It was equal parts fear and excitement. A weaker man would have stopped himself, but Germany wouldn't let his anxieties stop him. He closed most of the space between them before saying, "Gilbert."

The room went silent. Out of the corner of his eye, Germany caught sight of Lithuania turning to look at him, pale and aghast. Prussia turned his head and looked directly at Germany. Their eyes meeting sent Germany's heart racing. But, once the initial excitement faded, he realized that the red eyes were distant, as though he was very far away. The sharpness and strength that had always been behind his eyes was missing.

Germany took a deep breath. It hadn't been clear until now that what Russia had done behind closed doors had done damage. Germany had always been certain that his brother would be stronger than him, and now there seemed to be a void. Germany felt an ache in his chest at the realization. His mistake had cost him something precious. He expected the albino to respond, but there was nothing but empty silence. Prussia's red eyes met Germany's, but he said nothing.

The eyes of all the others were on them, waiting for a conversation that defied both superpowers. But, Prussia was silent, so Germany spoke as though his brother had returned his greeting. He said, trying to maintain his composure, "It is good to see you again. I had thought you would not be gone so long. You look well though." He tried to express all the longings he had felt being alone for the first time in a few, painfully polite words. If they had been in private, there was far more he would have said and done. Here they could not touch, though he longed to take his brother in his arms.

Though Prussia was looking directly at him and clearly hearing what he said, he continued his stony silence. Germany couldn't understand it. He had said nothing that should warrant this treatment. A desperation started to claw at him as the silent minutes pass. The albino was completely impassive except for the slight tilt of his head. Succumbing to the feeling of desperation, he let slip, "If you wanted to come back, it could be done. You just need to tell me. You don't have to listen to the Soviet Union."

The words came out far more careful than he would like. America's offer was on the tip of his tongue, but he dare not speak it this publicly. There were too many people listening, so the vague hint would have to be enough. The area, though full of people, was completely silent. Prussia's expression shifted, the first reaction Germany had gotten out of him.. The expression was one of shock, and Germany imagined a shadow of disgust, but he couldn't understand why. Frustration mounted again. He wanted to hear reasons, any reasons.

He opened his mouth again, ready to speak and tell his brother anything to get him to talk, secrecy be damned. But, no sound escaped before he heard a voice behind him, hard and sharp as polished steel, "You are out of line." Germany didn't need to turn to see Russia menacing over him. The voice was unmistakable. Germany knew he should leave immediately, but he couldn't bring himself to.  
His old militarism stirred, and he responded, "Let me speak to my brother, Russland."

He knew he had made a mistake by the way all three of the Baltics gasped. Russia stepped decisively between Germany and Prussia. Germany recognized the gesture for what it was: Russia was categorically denying him. But, the Russian wasn't done. He sneered, "The concept of occupation seems lost on you. You have no right to demand anything." The German cold feel himself squirming under that unending gaze. But, he glanced around Russia, attempting to see his brother.

Russia wasn't fooled. He said, his voice making the hair on the back of Germany's back stand up, "Don't bother. Subterfuge will be completely futile." The blonde recoiled. His courage slowly capitulating to his caution and discipline. Russia's choice of words made it perfectly clear: He knew what America had proposed. It didn't make any sense that he should, but his eyes left little doubt. To say more would be to risk repercussions, and that was something Germany was not willing to do. He held his tongue, though it was painful. He would give anything to wipe that smug smile off Russia's face.

But, the Russian, apparently judging his enemy to be dealt with, turned and put his arm around Prussia's shoulder. It was a clear gesture that they were leaving, but the choice to put his arm around the albino got under Germany's skin. Out of all of his satellite states, Russia chose to claim this one. Germany knew it was to taunt him, to show him what he had lost. In a moment of white hot rage, he shouted at Russia's back, "Get your hands off of him, Bolshevik dog!"

As soon as they escaped he wished he could take them back. He could taste the ire in them, but he knew what they were. Nazi words, still just below the surface. They had occurred to him like an animal instinct. But, he knew it was the wrong. He saw Prussia's eyes first, the reproach present in them. He understood it perfectly. Wordlessly, Prussia was admonishing him for risking everything he had sacrificed himself for. Russia's sadistic smile widened. Germany's heart thudded dully as he realized he had given the Russian exactly what he wanted. With the same smile, he leaned over and whispered something to Prussia. The albino grimaced and nodded.

Germany could only imagine what the words were; he had heard the way the Russian could twist words. But, what he had said was true. He could feel the hate pounding through every vein in his body. This communist was flaunting his control and there was nothing he could do about it. Germany hadn't felt hate this hot or vitriolic since the war. Russia's paw tightened on Prussia's shoulder and, with irritating ease, he led the albino away. Neither of them even glanced back at him, though Germany wished he could meet his brother's gaze just one more time. He fought the urge to shout after the pair again; there was nothing he could say or do.

But, he did catch a strangely pitying glance from Latvia. It raised far more questions than it answered. If this was the punishment that the world though he deserved, why would any of them look at him like that? It seemed to him that there was some secret awareness in the glance, like Latvia knew a truth far worse than he ever could. That look, fleeting though it was, sent a chill down Germany's spine.

In his peripheral vision, he saw America approaching. The blonde looked livid, and the German immediately assumed it was his fault. Every look of anger or pain he had seen recently had been a direct result of his action. But, the young man's glare went past him and fixed on the retreating figure of Russia. Without looking directly at Germany, he snarled, "What did he say to you?"

The question left little doubt that he suspected what had happened. But, all the same, Germany struggled to find the words to express what had happened. The encounter had been so short, but the emotions behind it were debilitating. His hope had evaporated as soon as Russia's eyes fell on him. He spoke, still searching for the right word, "Russia will not allow me to talk to Gilbert."

It was a vast oversimplification, but it would have to do for now. America nodded slowly, indicating that he understood. It became even clearer when he said, "So it is as bad as I feared." The vague statement expressed solidarity in a way that Germany appreciated. It seemed that Alfred would offer comfort if he had it, but he didn't. It seemed that he too was lost for words at this turn of events.

Turning to America, Germany said, "If I don't dissuade him from communism-" The words tasted like treason. But, if that allowance would make a difference, he would do it. Still feeling the sting of his own cowardice, he finished, "do you think he would let me speak to Gilbert?" It was his last desperate attempt to get at least a word. It seemed impossible to return to Bonn without even a glimmer of his brother. All the denunciations he wanted to speak could stay in his throat, if that was really what was necessary.

But, the other shook his head slowly, "I don't think there is a chance. Ivan is leaving and he won't give you another opportunity. He knows I encouraged you." A new wave of nausea washed over him as a vision occurred to him: Russia with his lips against his brother's ear, whispering lies to keep them apart. This scenario was the best he could imagine, and it still turned his stomach.

Still unwilling to believe that this was the last chance and he had squandered it with his childish rage, he said, "Ask him once more. He won't listen to me, but you are his equal."  
In a moment of genuine pity passed over the American's face as he looked directly at the other. He said only, "I'll see what I can do." Then he left in the same direction as Russia, his steady steps echoing through the crowd.

Russia made sure the car door was firmly closed behind them before he spoke. He had waited until they were completely alone to voice what he thought, though it had been on the tip of his tongue since he heard Germany's voice. He had guessed that America had the nerve to do this, and yet it had still surprised. It was so brazen to encroach on Russia's sphere of influence. Doubtless, America would feign ignorance and claim that Germany had acted of his own accord. But, this could be nothing else. America continued to be an opportunistic imperialist. He said, "I'm sorry, Gilbert."

He didn't know what to expect from the albino; he wasn't certain how much impact his brother's words had made. Deep in his chest, he felt the aching fear that everything he had constructed had just been undone. Prussia loved his brother, more deeply and enduringly than he cared about anything else. Russia had used that to break him, but now the same affection could destroy their fledgling bond. If the man chose to believe his brother, then all of Russia's care would be undone. He feared that he would be left alone again with fearful supplicants and his sisters. He had done what he could to tell the albino about America's toxic influence, but that was no guarantee. He took comfort in the fact that the other had followed his orders perfectly. But the doubts were louder, saying Prussia would choose his precious little brother over everything.

The time before Prussia responded seemed to stretch on indefinitely, holding Russia's emotions on the precipice. He snarled back, "I thought Alfred was supposed to help him." The words could not be more welcome. The anger that Russia had feared would be directed at him had found the proper target. He replied smoothly, stoking this anger, "He was tasked with reconstructing the West."  
As he expected, Prussia snapped back, "Then why does my brother still sound like a fascist?"

There was anger in his voice, but another emotion was winning him over. His eyes were fixed directly in front of him, as though he was replaying the encounter in his mind. His voice broke as he said, "If he still clutches of that poisonous ideology, then he will-" He shook his head furiously. Russia could see tears welling at the corners of the other's eyes. There was a muscle bulging in his jaw, as it always did when he was biting back his words. It was a strangely surreal feeling to see this much care, this much emotion and to know he created this response. This was exactly what he wanted though. With each revelation, he could turn Prussia more resolutely against the capitalist West. He didn't bother to mention that he knew there were former Nazi party members in the West German government. The conclusion Prussia had reached on his own was enough. This one was particularly powerful: Prussia could see how American influence was corrupting what he loved most.

But, Russia was not enjoying this as a victory. There was little joy in seeing the man hurt. He wanted to soothe away the pain and assure his lover that he alone could do it. Following his instincts, the Russian wrapped one arm around the man and pulled him close. There was a slight quiver that he could feel just beneath the uniform. It was impossible to tell if he was shaking from anger or sadness. But, Russia could also feel Prussia reciprocate, grasping at his coat. When he spoke again it was through tightly clenched teeth and the words left no doubt as to what he was feeling, "Ludwig needs help and guidance and Alfred is playing him."

These words did bring a smile to Russia's face, a smug self-satisfied smile. So, he didn't have to sow enmity between the brothers to have Prussia revile America. That made his task much easier. Turning brothers against each other was difficult, but convincing the albino that his brother had been stolen away from him was easy. He responded with the words of comfort that came most naturally, "He needs you, Gil."

Russia ran his hand up the albino's back, making certain that his touch was firm enough to be felt through the layers of the uniform. Prussia shifted even closer to him, nestling his head against his shoulder. Russia felt himself warming at the proximity. The effect hadn't faded in the time; if anything, it was stronger now. He moved his other hand to the back of albino's neck. The albino let out a soft gasp as he felt the gloved hand on the sensitive skin. As Russia spoke again, he ran his thumb over a sensitive spot behind the other's ear, "Alfred is manipulating him now, but you will get the chance to teach him."

Russia resisted the urge to bite back the words. In truth, he did not want the other half of the Germany. He would rather displace the West and return Prussia to sole control of the land. He had no desire to be served by the man who had concocted and ordered operation Barbarossa. But, for his lover he would restrain his grudge. Wordlessly, Prussia fixed his eyes on Russia's face. The look in them was vulnerable, almost pleading. It was too tempting not to take advantage of. Russia leaned in and joined their lips.

He felt the albino react, desperate, emotional and needy. His kiss was messy, but passionate. Russia could feel the way Prussia grasping at affection after this blow to his certainty, and he was more than willing to provide it. He deepened the kiss, giving the albino the care and attention he needed. Slowly, he used his fingers to undo the top buttons of the other's uniform and loosen his tie. He was prepared to start kissing down his neck. But, there was a sharp knock on the window.

The sound was distinctly unwelcome. Russia turned with a slight snarl to see who was so tactlessly interrupting. Prussia whimpered slightly as their lips parted. But, he could see through the window over Russia's shoulder and he hissed, "Speak of the devil." The venom in his voice made it far less surprising when Russia saw America on the other side of the window. He was tempted to leave the window closed and shut his rival out completely, but that would be a politically dangerous move. It was necessary that he at least maintain cordiality with America, even if he wished for the complete ruin of the man.

With a frustrated sigh, he rolled down the window. America leaned forward into the open space and it immediately felt like an imposition. The blonde didn't know how intimate the moment he interrupted was. Irritated, Russia said, "What do you want, Jones?" He saw the other stiffen at his tone. Apparently, it was not enough to dissuade him from his purpose.  
He responded curtly, "Let Ludwig talk to his brother. They won't talk about politics."

Russia could hear the deceit just below the surface. This wasn't about reuniting brothers; this was about stealing away East Germany. America thought that by feigning compassion he could facilitate Germany convincing his brother to rebel. Russia was not fooled and he would not allow it. He replied, "Nyet."

An angry flush colored the American's face to the roots of his blonde hair. He tilted his head slightly and made another insulting attempt. He spoke around Russia, "Gilbert, your brother misses you. You must know how much he misses you." Russia could hardly believe that America was so unwilling to deviate from his plan that he was resorting to this. He felt a spasm of dread in his chest as he contemplated the possibility that Prussia would succumb to this appeal to emotion.

But, it was quashed when the albino leaned over and said, speaking directly to America as America had spoken to him, "So now you care? That's very convenient. If you really considered Ludwig's best interests, then you wouldn't have split us up. I could have helped him, but you robbed me of that. You wanted us separate. When I see him again, it will not be on your terms."

Russia felt himself smile as a shining pride bubble up. His lover was defending their bond like he used to defend his brother. Buoyed by his pride, Russia glanced at America's face. There was a look of abject horror, but his eyes were fixed on Prussia's neck. Russia had to look at his lover before he understood what America was so rapt by. By unbuttoning Prussia's collar, he had revealed the love bites from the night before and the albino leaning forward had made them even clearer. America's mouth was hanging agape as he realized the entirety of the situation. Russia could even detect a hint of jealousy in the blue eyes.

Prussia finished his reproach with a piercing glare, "Leave me out of your next scheme."  
Russia added, "Does that satisfy you?" He didn't wait for an answer though. He knew that America understood how fruitless his attempts were. Russia said shortly, "Goodbye, Jones." He rolled up the window, leaving America still standing dumbfounded next to the car.

Germany had sat down to wait for America to return, and as he sat he scripted the conversation he would have with his brother. It was difficult to think of what to say without even enquiring about the politics of occupation. But, that was the promise he had made and he was not going to break it. But, excluding the politics the conversation could only be personal. There was so much he wanted to say to his brother, so much he wanted to apologize for. He had realized that so much of the war had been his fault and that Gilbert had only acted to protect him. If they could just talk to each other again, he could tell his brother how remorseful he was.

The sound of hurried footsteps informed him that America had returned. He stood up and looked expectantly in the direction of the sound. His heart dropped as soon as he caught sight of America. The man's face was completely white as though he had seen something profoundly shocking. There was no way that the news could be good. But, with his hope already shrinking, he asked, "What did he say?"  
America stopped and took a deep breath before saying, "I didn't get a chance to speak to Ivan. They've already left." His voice was hollow, and Germany got the sense that the response was a lie. Before he had a chance to comment on the lie, America said, "I think it is better for now if you don't try to contact your brother."

Germany drew in a sharp breath. He couldn't abide that order. He couldn't give up on his brother. He responded, "I can't do that."  
America nodded sadly, "I know. But for your own good, I think you should."


End file.
